Naamah's Curse (35 page)

“Moirin…” Aleksei wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Just translate for me!” I said. He nodded reluctantly. Collecting myself as best I could, I turned to the Duke. “My lord, forgive me this scene. But I have been held prisoner here against my will for many months. I am a citizen of Terre d’Ange and Alba, and descended from the royal houses of both nations.”

Aleksei translated. The Duke listened and nodded, appraising me with his sharp blue-grey eyes. He asked a question, and Aleksei relayed it. “Descended how so?”

“I will give him my genealogy if he wishes,” I said. “Daniel de la Courcel, the King of Terre d’Ange, acknowledged me as kin. Ask the Patriarch himself; his own notes confirm it. I have no doubt his highness would reward my rescuer, as I have no doubt he would be most wroth if I were put to death here.”

It was a gamble, but King Daniel had always been fond of me. I wished now I had presented myself to the Cruarch before I’d left Alba.

Once again, Aleksei translated; once again, the Duke asked questions of him. These, Aleksei answered himself. The Duke bowed his head toward me and spoke at length, and there was regret in his voice.

“What did he say?” I asked dully.

“He said…” Aleksei cleared his throat and stared at the pebbled floor. “He said what you say may be true, but you have sinned against the Church nonetheless. You are far from home. No one knows you are here, and no one will know if you die here. And although… although it is a shame to destroy such exquisite beauty, any woman who can tempt the Patriarch of Riva to lose control of himself in the temple of God is too dangerous to live.”

“Oh.” My last spark of hope guttered and died.

The Duke of Vralsturm spoke to the Patriarch briefly, then beckoned to his men. Together, they exited the temple.

In the wake of their departure, the crowd began to surge forward. They may not have understood all that had transpired, but they were ready to drag me to the town square and stone me here and now.

“Aleksei…” My voice was high with fear.

With only a moment’s hesitation, he put himself between me and the crowd, reaching out his hands in a pleading gesture.

What would have happened if Pyotr Rostov had not addressed the crowd, I cannot say. But he did, and it quieted them. One by one, they began to file out of the temple.

I did not think it was much of a reprieve.

I was right.

The Patriarch turned to me. “Moirin mac Fainche of the Maghuin Dhonn,” he said with velvety malice. “For sins of the flesh, witchcraft, and blasphemy against the Church of Yeshua Ascendant, you will be put to death by stoning at dawn tomorrow. I recommend you spend the night meditating on your sins.”

“Go to hell, you stunted old pervert,” I muttered.

He gave me a creamy smile, not trying to hide it for once. “Nephew, I think it best if you have no further contact with the witch. Luba, Valentina, escort her to her cell.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Aleksei as we left. He was staring at the floor again, which didn’t bode well for me.

Luba was smiling, broadly and openly. For a piece of irony, it made her look pleasant and kind for the first time since I’d known her. I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her burst into song.

Valentina was silent, her face shuttered and averted. When they made to leave, I caught her sleeve.

“Thank you, my lady,” I said softly. “For such small kindnesses as you have shown me. My mother…” My voice broke. “If she knew, my mother would be glad that her daughter did not die entirely friendless.”

She did not answer or meet my eyes, only freed my hand gently from her sleeve. They left, and I heard the key turn in the lock.

I was alone.

Tomorrow, I was going to die—and quite horribly.

It took some time for the enormity of that notion to settle over me. I had faced death before, more than once. I wasn’t afraid of death, not exactly. I had made peace with it. I knew what awaited me on the far side of the stone doorway. The precious spark of my
diadh-anam
shone inside me, a promise that the Maghuin Dhonn Herself would welcome me home, and I would be free at last.

The dying itself was another matter.

I wondered how long it would take, and how much it would hurt. A lot, I thought. The bones of my face ached where the Patriarch had struck me, and my cheek was bruised and swollen.

I prayed.

I cried.

I thought about all the people who would never know that I had died here and would always wonder what had befallen me. I wished I could speak to them. My mother, most of all—and Bao, a close second.

What would become of him? If I were right and I died with my
diadh-anam
unextinguished, he would live, condemned to wander the earth in search of the missing half of
his
soul, never knowing for sure.

Mayhap it would be better if I were wrong.

I thought about everything I had done here in Riva, wondering what I could have done differently. Something. Nothing. If I had not lost my temper and sworn the sacred oath of the Maghuin Dhonn earlier, mayhap the Patriarch would not have sought to bind me with it—or mayhap not. He had known of Berlik’s oath. Mayhap if I had not baited the Patriarch in the temple, the Duke of Vralsturm would have relented and aided me.

Mayhap.

Bao had accused me of being impulsive. He was right; he was usually right. But I had been patient for so very, very long; and Pyotr Rostov had already condemned me to death. I didn’t know if it would have made a difference if I had held my tongue.

I leaned my head against the wall and watched the light change in my narrow window, mellowing to an afternoon glow, fading slowly to dusk, a painful reminder of the twilight that was forbidden to me.

Come dawn…

They would gloat, those bedamned villagers. Hurling stones that broke my bones and tore my flesh, eking out a slow, painful death; oh yes, they would gloat, glorying in their almighty self-righteousness.

It was going to hurt a lot, for a long time. It was a bad way to die.

I closed my eyes, slow tears leaking beneath my lids. I wished I could be brave and defiant on the morrow, but I was fairly sure I would just be terrified. And I was fairly sure the Patriarch had granted me this day’s reprieve only that I might fully experience the depth of my terror.

No, I
was
sure.

When I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of my cell door, I thought at first that I was dreaming.

I wasn’t.

My narrow window was dark. I sat upright on my narrow bed, watching a gilded wedge of lamplight enter my chamber as a lone figure slipped through the door, tall and rangy.

“Aleksei,” I breathed. “You’ve risked everything to free me after all?”

In the lamp-lit darkness, he shook his head. A silver key dangled from his fist on a chain. “Not I, no. My mother.”

V
alentina; oh Valentina! “How?” I whispered.

Aleksei knelt at my feet, busying himself with the key, unlocking the shackles around my ankles. “My uncle takes tea after supper. From time to time, Mother puts a sedative in it to ease his rest and give the rest of us a measure of peace. A tincture of valerian. He’s never known about it.” He eased the cuffs from my ankles. “Better?”

“Yes.” I wanted to leap to my feet and dance. “But… you?”

“She stole the key and gave me a choice,” he murmured, his head bowed. “To do this myself and see you to the border, and take my own freedom. Or to let her free you, and watch her suffer the punishment for it. I chose. Hands, Moirin.”

I held them out to him. “You chose this?”

Aleksei gave me a pained, fleeting smile. “What is the fifth commandment that God inscribed on Moishe’s tablets?”

This, too, I had memorized. “Honor your mother and father.”

He nodded. “Even so.”

One shackle opened. I raised my left hand, shaking it. I didn’t feel any different yet, and a creeping fear filled me. I tried to take comfort from the spark of my
diadh-anam
inside me, but I was scared. What if that were the most I would ever feel? What if the damage done to me were permanent? What if God and Yeshua were punishing me after all? I
had
lied, I
had
violated the sanctity of their rites. I whispered a soft prayer for their forgiveness as Aleksei unlocked the second wrist cuff.

“That almost sounded genuine,” he murmured, moving behind me to unlock the collar around my neck.

“It was.”

“I’m pleased.” Aleksei got the lock undone and removed the silver collar, the chains coming away with it.

My
diadh-anam
blazed riotously as my senses opened and expanded in a hectic rush, my awareness surging outward to embrace the world. All of my senses were suddenly keener, sharper, more alert.

I laughed aloud for the sheer joy of it. “Aleksei, Aleksei, I can
see
again! I can
feel
!”

“Hush,” he cautioned me, looking perplexed. “But you weren’t blind, Moirin. Were you?”

Bao. Where was Bao? I stood and turned instinctively, seeking the beacon of his
diadh-anam
.

It was far away, far to the south, and fainter than it ought to be even at such a distance. I frowned, wondering what that meant. Was he ill? Injured? It seemed I should have felt some flare of recognition in his
diadh-anam
at sensing mine unveiled after so long. But mayhap I was wrong. After all, this was uncharted territory. Insofar as I knew, no one had ever had the divine spark of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself divided and shared with another living soul.

“Moirin?”

I glanced at Aleksei, still looking perplexed. Fretting over Bao would have to wait. I had a long way to go before I was safe. Wherever he was, my magpie could take care of himself. “Not blind, no, but something akin to it. The chains blocked my sense of magic in the world.”

“I see.” Now he looked uneasy.

“You will,” I said to him. “Close your eyes a moment.” Although he didn’t like it, he obeyed. I took a deep breath, let it out, took another and summoned the twilight, breathing it out over both of us.

It settled over me like an embrace, soft and gentle, drenching the lamp-lit cell in silvery-violet dusk, turning it into a magical place. It felt like a homecoming, like being reunited with a long-lost love.

I smiled. “Now, see.”

Aleksei opened his eyes. “Oh!” Wonder dawned over his features. “It’s… it’s so beautiful!”

“Aye.” I breathed it deep into my lungs, along with the scent of pine-trees growing on the outskirts of town. I longed to touch their rough bark, listen to their slow thoughts. “Now you’ve seen the great and terrible sin of witchcraft at work.”

“It’s beautiful,” he repeated. “And you… you’re beautiful in it.” He smiled shyly at me. “Even more so, I mean. And it doesn’t
feel
like a sin.”

I touched his cheek. “Thank you, my sweet boy. Now, how do we get ourselves safely away from here?”

“Oh!” Caught up in the twilight’s charm, he’d nearly forgotten our plight. “Here.” He fetched a bundle from the floor and thrust it at me. “From my mother. Clothing, shoes, a head-scarf. Bread and cheese, as much as she could get on short notice.” He jingled a purse at his belt. “She had a little money. Not much.”

“Blessed Valentina,” I murmured, shaking out the drab woolen dress. It was a good deal less conspicuous than my catechumen’s white robe. “Do we have waterskins? A striking kit? Bow and arrows?”

“No.” Realizing I was preparing to change my clothes, modest Aleksei turned his back on me. “I’m sorry, Moirin. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“No matter.” I shed the robe, donned the dress. Shoved my feet into the shoes, and wrapped the scarf around my head. “We’ll find what we need along the way. You can turn around,” I added.

He did, looking dubious. “We haven’t much coin, truly.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say I’d gladly steal whatever was needful when my gaze fell on the hateful, discarded chains. “Actually, we do.” I picked up the chains. “These are nearly solid silver. They must be worth a small fortune.”